Heiress of a Dishonored House
by Ihsan997
Summary: Lithassia is one of several competing heirs to House Duskmere, one of the most reviled families in Suramar for their support of the Burning Legion. When she attempts to set things right, two-hundred years of unspoken bitterness explode, changing the course of her life forever. An origin story for my nightborne warlock occurring prior to the Nazjatar storyline; 8 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Lithassia's fingers were already trembling as she walked down the marble steps toward the hedge-fenced courtyard of the luxurious Suramar mansion.

Nervousness felt so…unbecoming of her. Surrounded by the sort of opulence she'd grown up with when visiting the Lunastre Estate, she chided herself for nearly losing her nerve this time. She'd been there so many times…but not as the heiress of a disgraced household.

She felt it in the way the two Lunastre groundskeepers stared her down as she approached. She felt it in the way the other overdressed nobles lining the paved marble walkway whispered rumors and insults when she walked by them. She felt it in the way the kindly Lunastre elder took one look at her approaching the courtyard and then promptly turned around and walked the other way. She was surrounded by people yet alone for the first time in her life. Those same two groundskeepers, making no secret of the enchanted nightsticks they hid in their jackets, blocked her entrance to the courtyard once she reached the end of the walkway. Never had she been barred from entering another noble household before, and the notion of her movement being restricted stung as much as the judgmental eyes fixated on her public rebuke.

The shorter of the two groundskeepers, a rough commoner who smelled of body odor and cologne which wasn't quite strong enough, held out a hand to caution her. "You must be lost, madame," he said with expertly concealed condescension which broke through only in his frowning brow. "The path toward the city is behind you."

At that moment - and, thankfully, only at that moment - she almost lost her nerve. Thoughts of giving up and enacting a different plan flashed through her mind, and she wondered how easy it would be to simply play along with their act of a lost outcast. But how could she? Her mere arrival was enough to begin the downward spiral of her reputation; she couldn't go back now.

Straightening her posture and squaring her shoulders, she regarded the groundskeeper with far more condescension, though far less confidence than she would have displayed merely a year ago. "I'm Lithassia of House Duskmere, supporter of our city's glorious new order, and herald of reconciliation. You will inform your mistress that her junior noble has called on her to accept glad tidings." Her voice nearly wavered when her subconscious reminded her that, in another first in her life, a commoner wouldn't be obligated to follow her orders. She waited with baited breath as the two glorified shrubbery watchmen mulled over just how much influence her name may still wield. To her luck, however, the elder who'd fled from her earlier had caused enough of a furor for her to be investigated.

"Send her in, Reginald," came the almost melodious voice of the opposing household's matriarch.

On any day of her life for the previous two hundred years, that voice would have warmed Litha's heart. Given their circumstances, however, the butterflies in her stomach merely scattered and panicked as much as she was. The two groundskeepers changes their attitudes immediately like the plebeians they were, bowing and welcoming the Duskmere upstart inside the courtyard. Ostentatious as all of their social class was, the hedge maze inside of the courtyard had been decorated with tinsel to celebrate House Lunastre's ascension to leadership within Suramar. Even all of the arcane lighting had been temporarily changed to oil lamps and decorative lanterns to announce the change in political status, altering the location of gatherings she remembered from decades past. She had nary a moment to observe, however, because the continued stares from lounging family members and servants attending them on their swings and benches cowed her into training her vision straight ahead. The setting for nights of splendor and joy had become a hostile environment in a matter of months.

Before she even knew it, she'd passed by the gazebos and ice sculptures without even taking in the scenery. Looming in front of her was a magnificent hand-carved bench seating a handful of the household's notables, all of them ceasing their gossip as she approached. Their silence scared her more than had she been ignored, and when all of them took their leave except for one, Litha found her entire rehearsed monologue escaping her memory. Alone and without support, both in that courtyard and in life, she felt unfairly exposed in front of Suramar's second most powerful person.

Ly'leth Lunastre didn't rise to greet the relative youth, nor did the power-player extend her hand. A cold stare, not aggressive but just unfeeling, held Litha in place.

"Well?" the Lunastre matriarch demanded, filling Litha with regret. Her throat itched, and she found herself unable to speak. "You have thirty seconds; what drives you to show your face here?"


	2. Chapter 2

The muscles in Litha's brow and cheeks strained as she reminded herself not to display too much emotion. The pressure of the Lunastre leader's state broke her resolve, though, and her voice wavered as she began to speak.

"I…am…Lithassia of House Duskmere, heiress of a mistaken-"

Her monologue, or what remained of it, was unraveled by the older woman like a ball of yarn in the paws of a rabid mama sabre. "I know who you are, Lithassia," Ly'leth said with another impatient undertone. "Why are you here?"

Heat rose in Litha's cheeks along with the muscle strain, and her throat hurt when she gulped. "I have come here to deliver…glad tidings on your success in the election…and to apologize for the behavior of…some of my relatives."

Unfeeling and almost dismissive without being aggressive, Ly'leth leaned back on her ornate bench and folded her hands in her lap. "You could have sent a note, but your glad tidings are received in any case; your apology is not." Litha tried to speak, but Ly'leth wasn't finished. "You're one of many heirs, but you aren't the leader of anything. An apology for the crimes of your household isn't yours to deliver. You've stepped outside of your remit."

Walking a tightrope between expressing sincerity and begging, Litha held her hands stiffly in front of her if only to avoid shoving them into the folds of her robes. "The circumstances call for such…adjustments to normal protocol," she said defensively. "Lady Ly'leth, my household supported the Burning Legion's occupation of this city. Ruvan's crimes were terrible, as was his sullying of our name; my only wish is to begin absolving my household of any association with what he and his followers did."

"Then begin within your household," Ly'leth said without skipping a beat, piling pressure onto the younger woman to make a more convincing point. "I admire your sentiment, but what you're speaking of has nothing to do with my family."

"If you would allow me…" Litha's voice trailed off, and she struggled to rephrase her thoughts without degrading herself to the point of begging. "…to explain, I wouldn't be so presumptuous as to seek outside assistance with solving my family's problems."

Though Ly'leth's gaze was lined with iron, she made no move to have Litha thrown out. "So what is it you seek?" the Lunastre leader asked flatly.

"I only seek the disassociation of myself from the actions of Ruvan and his supporters, my lady. I understand that friendship with your house is too much to ask for at this time, but I wanted to express in-person my desire to right the wrongs committed by members of House Duskmere. I condemn…" Litha stopped herself when her voice wavered again, feeling exposed in front of a person who's sympathy was less than expected. "…I condemn what was done by my relatives in the strongest terms, both in support of the Legion and in threatening you and your champion."

Never had Litha seen a person so passive yet almost hostile at the same time. "So why are you here, Lithassia?" Ly'leth asked pointedly. "You should have said this directly to your family, in your own household, if you only wanted to solve your problems. You're here now, in my house, on my property, speaking to me in private about matters which aren't my concern."

"It's not like that-"

"There's obviously something else you want," Ly'leth said, silencing the disgraced heiress. "You won't achieve that desired goal via flattery or glad tidings. Tell me openly, honestly, what you came here for; I don't have time for any more Duskmere drama."

The matriarch's words cut deep, reminding Litha of decades - centuries - of negative relations between the two families. "I need protection," Litha confessed, speaking in a whisper with her eyes downcast. Embarrassed at the sense of exposure, she found herself unable to continue on her own accord. By a miracle of good fortune, however, a bit of the iron in the older woman's words receded in reaction to the honesty.

"What kind of protection?"

Scolded by the situation and without the need for words, Litha continued looking down at her hands. "Anything, my lady. Your position could allow you to prevent Ruvan's supporters from acting against me, or any others who regret what he did in our name."

"How?" Ly'leth asked sharply, needing no time to consider the proposition.

"In any way; anything, as it sounds, so I meant it. Even if members of the Duskwatch could be posted near our properties-"

Ly'leth cut a slice through the air with her hand. "No. One hundred percent no," the Lunastre leader replied, to the Duskmere noble's dismay. "I was elected to my position based on the trust of the people. Direct involvement in family affairs - even ones as sordid as yours - would violate that trust. I'd be seen as a tyrant; a copy of Elisande."

"Well, I-"

"Furthermore, Lithassia, my involvement would only damage your efforts. You'd be seen as a usurper, even if you don't seek a position at the head of the household. Any direct involvement in your dispute is out of the question."

Crestfallen, Litha took a deep breath and tried - and failed - to think of anything intelligent to say. In a welcome sign of mercy, Ly'leth pointed to the bench, ordering the Duskmere heiress to sit down. Relishing the chance for any reconciliation she could gain, Litha ignored the burning embarrassment of feeling like a beggar and sat next to Ly'leth. The two of them remained quiet for a moment, and Ly'leth took her sweet time sitting up straight and passing her heretofore untouched wine glass to Litha.

"I understand what you want," Ly'leth said while the young petitioner drank. "You feel the shame of what Ruvan did in your family's name, and you want that to be erased from history." Litha tried to talk, but she coughed on the wine and nodded instead. "You're also aware of what Ruvan's supporters are like. Them, and the members of your family who're simply too proud to admit fault."

"They will take action against me," Litha said.

"They will *kill* you," Ly'leth countered. Unable to respond, Litha held still and drank, seeking the guidance which she'd never received from her parents. "They will go to any length to restore their honor without accepting responsibility for Ruvan's crimes. They're different from you, and for that reason more than any other, you can't speak on their behalf."

"If I knew I had the city's support…if I had a guarantor whom I could appeal to, then I could enact a positive change in my family's behavior," Litha said, though with the confidence drained from her voice, she almost found herself hoping for Ly'leth to explain why she was wrong rather than entertaining her suggestion. Fortunately, the Lunastre matriarch was happy to oblige with the former proposition.

"You're not ready," Ly'leth said, again without pausing or self doubt. "Nor is House Duskmere. Stop staring into your glass and look at me when we're talking."

"My apologies," Litha replied nervously.

"Accepted. Now, I'm going to tell you something which will save you centuries of bad experiences; something nobody ever told me. I've seen houses, practically dynasties, rise and fall in this city; I know what I'm talking about. You must believe me when I tell you that the time isn't right: your relatives sharing your moral sense lack your bravery, your relatives in possession of your bravery lack your moral sense, and you were already a black sheep before you came to visit me tonight. Your status will only diminish after this night."

Caught off guard, Litha looked up curiously. "What do you mean?" she asked, feeling exposed again but not in front of Ly'leth.

"Look around you, Lithassia. Look at my guests, my servants, the gardener; look at them all for who they are. Our people are afflicted with horrendous gossip even when their intentions are good. By the time you leave here, word will already spread in this quarter of the city that you visited me alone - your betrayal will be all but foregone in the eyes of your household. Even when I refuse to help you - and in front of the people, that's what I must pretend - your actions will set ablaze rumors of House Duskmere splintering and losing its very bloodline. Those who won't repudiate Ruvan will be prepared to vent their resentment on you."

The next sentence Ly'leth spoke was unexpected, far beyond what the younger nightborne had even feared. "If you go home tonight, it will be your last time," she said, sending a cold chill down Litha's spine.

At a loss for words, Litha found herself too shocked to even feel regret. "So many members of my family are awful…so many…but to kill one of their own?" she asked rhetorically.

"To kill one of their own," Ly'leth repeated, refusing to coddle her younger. She reached forward and took back the wine glass she'd lended Litha, not allowing the young petitioner to escape by staring at it. "Understand that I wouldn't tell you all of this if I didn't appreciate your gesture; and understand, following from that, that I wouldn't tell you this unless I sincerely felt you were in danger."

Litha's stomach began to hurt every time she inhaled. "What was the point of all this?" she asked, feeling the muscles of her face strain again when she realized that she was pleading. "I thought…I'd expected that-"

"I know what you were expecting," Ly'leth said, saving her from further embarrassment. "You were expecting to have support because you've always acted with support - like all of our social class. But here's the important nuance: you're acting against the strongest wing of your family. You're making a moral choice by trying to do what's right, and you'll suffer for it." Frowning deeply, Litha cast a few glances at a few passing servants beyond the nearest hedge. "They won't listen to us; don't worry about them."

"You're…very kind," Litha said with her head hung low.

"Stop hanging your head like that," Ly'leth said, not replying to the complement. "Focus. You've made a moral choice, and it's the right choice, but you seem to have lost track of a significant detail. This is an important one. All people choosing to right great wrongs for moral reasons will suffer; you can't atone for the sins of your elders otherwise. I tell you with the utmost sincerity that I hope you will succeed in cleansing your family name."

"How?" Litha burst out, tensing up so much that a vein throbbed in her neck. "Everything you've described makes me feel like I've signed my own death warrant."

The closest Ly'leth came to coddling was a light touch of her palm over Litha's hand. "Calm down; maintain your composure at all costs. You know that. Now, remember: I said that I must pretend not to support you in public. As far as everyone knows, you'll walk away from my property empty-handed - repudiated by your family and neighbors alike. You'll leave Suramar for now - immediately - tonight."

"No, there has to be another way…I was supposed to make things right!" Litha protested. "This isn't what I came here to discuss with you at all!"

"Lithassia, calm down. You're young, but two centuries is still too old to use exclamations at all."

"I…am…sorry."

"I accept that apology as well, but let's move on. If you stay here, your less ethical family members will come for you. You can put an end to what we all deride as 'Duskmere drama' one day, but not yet. You need to leave and find your own way so that you'll have the influence required for what you want to do. That's the part I can help with." Litha started to shake her head, but Ly'leth ignored her and waved over a servant. The two shared a few inaudible words before the servant walked away. "I'm sure you know about the Horde," Ly'leth said once she and Litha were alone again.

"This isn't how I envisioned this conversation happening," Litha lamented.

"Don't wallow; you're taking the right steps for yourself and your family. Now, here is what you'll do, and you must follow my instructions exactly: do not return to your home. Go straight to the Horde embassy this evening. As we speak, my servant is going through the proper contacts to arrange travel documents for you. The details of your exit from Suramar will be simple from there, but you must arrive as soon as possible. I'll see to it that they're expecting you; my involvement mist ends there, for the political reasons we discussed."

Litha felt as trapped with Ly'leth as she did with her own family. The logic of the Lunastre matriarch's words was still painful to hear, yet the modicum of generosity Ly'leth had shown couldn't be refused without causing further problems. If Litha were truly to be isolated from her people due to the cloud hanging over her name, then she couldn't afford to spurn the last person who appeared friendly toward her.

"This isn't what I'd envisioned…but I trust your judgment," Litha said, masking her disbelief with a well performed lie.

Buying the sincerity, Ly'leth nodded and let go of the younger's hand. "The moonlight will shine on the name 'Duskmere' once more if you're successful. Give it some time, establish yourself elsewhere, and your house has a chance. I want you to remember everything I've told you."

Ly'leth didn't need to be explicit: her words were a signal that the conversation was over. She'd been frank, treated Litha well, and had even offered to help; it just wasn't what the disgraced noble wanted. Unable to refuse, Litha stood up and bowed to her elder.

"I'll clean my household…one day," she said politely yet without conviction. Ly'leth modded but didn't otherwise respond.

Taking her leave, Litha hurries out of the Lunastre Estate as quickly as she could without looking like a plebeian. She could feel the eyes of every person she passed following her, and she tried to focus on putting one foot after the other as her head spun around the prospects of leaving the only place she's ever known.


	3. Chapter 3

After an extra long stroll through a public menagerie, Litha found herself approaching a T-junction on an eastern walkway overlooking the bay. Invisible due to the subdued, almost middle-class shawl she'd pulled over her robes, she passed handfuls of people who didn't even recognize her or realize she existed in their vicinity. Perhaps it was fitting that she move around unnoticed, for her recent discussion with the leader of House Lunastre had left her feeling more alone than she had in a long time.

As she passed by the very people she shared her city with for two centuries, the city which she'd once thought was the only habited place left on Azeroth, she tried to expunge the fantasies she'd once held of triumphantly taking control of House Duskmere after Ruvan's death. At one point she'd gone so far as to doodle pictures of what she'd wear if she ever were to succeed in purging the household of Legion sympathizers. Fantasies, all of them, and ones she'd have to leave behind.

A group of immigrants from Kalimdor brushed past her. Over her shoulder, she caught a better glimpse of the people she was expected to see as comrades now: loud orcs, fleabag Tauren, smelly trolls, smellier undead, and blood elves whose skin was the color of bread. She stopped at the end of the T-junction, spying the Horde embassy at the end of the street.

She was close…very close. She could easily continue walking, meet whatever officials had been prepped for her arrival, and abandon the only place she'd ever known. The red and black doors were in sight; it would be easy to do what Ly'leth had told her, accepting the elder's advice based on practical experience.

But…Litha couldn't. Having never ventured even into the hinterland of Suramar, she just couldn't bear the thought of leaving. In an act which she'd remember for a long time coming, she put the Horde embassy behind her and walked in the other direction, entering the modest doors of a middle-class inn - a type of establishment which had been unknown to the nightborne prior to the opening of their city to outsiders. Tossing aside Ly'leth Lunastre's advice, Litha entered and rented a room, convincing herself that she needed a night alone to think everything over.

Little did she know that she'd be anything but invisible, or alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, Litha stood behind a partition in the drab room she'd rented. The concept of an inn was not only foreign to her, but uncomfortable; she didn't like staying in a shared, previously used living space, nor did she enjoy being away from her wardrobe for so long. However, she knew that she'd need to stay away from her household for a while. Though she couldn't quite believe the extreme description of her family given by Ly'leth Lunastre, she also knew that her visitation that afternoon would be…controversial.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another potential controversy when tiny red hands wrapped on the partition. "Mistress, we finished your laundry in the washroom down the hall!" came the raspy, unpleasant voice. The words themselves weren't out of the ordinary, but she'd likely cause a separate controversy were any other tenants to hear the usage of Eredun.

Responding in the demonic language, Litha huffed while holding her empty hand out from behind the partition. "Well?" she asked impatiently. "Hand them over, I need to get dressed!"

The raspy little voice mumbled nervously. "Many apologies, mistress, but the others are too afraid to be seen, and there are voices in the hall!" the small demon replied.

More commanding when addressing demons than when addressing her peers, Litha snapped her fingers at the demon a few times. "Not as afraid as they're going to be if they don't bring back my clothes, now go tell them I mean it! The air is cold this time of year!"

"Of course, mistress, many apologies!" the little voice replied after yelping at the sound of her snapping fingers. Little feet pattered out of her room and down the hall, leaving her in silence for a few minutes before more of them returned. "Here we are, your clean garments and all!" the creature said upon returning with its fellows.

"Give me those," she said without giving thanks, behaving without her previous humility when ordering around the minions. Throwing on her undergarments and just the robe she'd worn earlier, the left the rest of her clothing hanging over the partition and walked out into the rest of the room. "And call me 'your majesty' from now on, I'm tired of the old title."

Standing before her as she walked out were five small wyrmtongue, the craven laborers of the Twisting Nether. All of them groveled before her, familiar with potential for abusiveness when dealing with them. "All hail her majesty!" the leader of her manual laborers said while averting its gaze. "We await further orders!"

Without even looking at the small creatures, she strode past them toward an empty spot on the floor between the door and the bed set. "Go back to the Nether until I call on you again," she said dismissively, sending the five demons away into puffs of smoke with a mere word.

As soon as they were gone, Litha went to work drawing runes on the ground for another summoning circle. Being relatively new to fel magic, she spent a good few minutes designing the circle just right, matching the runes to those of a carefully chosen minion she could actually trust. Working without rushing, she completed the dark purple runes and channeled her mana, bringing into her plane of existence a particularly devious fiend whose advice she was in need of. The runes began to burn with purple fire, forming a circle out of which rose a short, winged figure with a wicked smile. Similarly draped in a flowing garment, the casual observer wouldn't have realized that the creature was a succubus due to the conservative manner of clothing were it not for the horns and hooves.

The succubus flashed a wicked (though not lascivious) smile. "Why hello," the devilish creature said with a sincere warmth, if a warmth fuels by hellfire. "I was wondering when I'd have the chance to return to your plane of existence again."

Standing up straight but without the stern demeanor she maintained with the wyrmtongue, Litha nodded her head to the demon. "It's been too long, yes. I'm in need of your skills." Litha maintained a flat, even tone, but her most cerebral minion saw through the front.

"Let me guess: you've been wronged," the succubus said, "and you need to plot revenge?"

"I don't know if I'm even to that stage yet, Jhatra. I believe that this wrong is too great for me to make right yet."

Grinning with delight at the sound of drama, the emotional vampire known as Jhatra led Litha to a chair by the inn room's dresser. "How awful! Tell me *everything* you can!" the demon said, sympathetic to a degree but really just hoping to gossip. She coaxed Litha into sitting down and letting her undo the ponytail the nightborne had tied. "Who do we need to hate this time?"

More comfortable wallowing in pity when it wasn't only from herself, Litha rested her chin on her hand while the succubus brushed her hair for her. "I don't think I can even hate anybody; that's what's so frustrating. If I could blame people, it would all be easier, but I think I've backed myself into a bit of a corner this time."

"Tell me!" Jhatra begged.

"Well, I sought help from House Lunastre to see if I could deal with my own household with outside assistance. But Ly'leth told me that it's a lost cause now and suggested that I skip town for a while."

"Hmm…that sounds considerably less complicated than most ideas which come from Ly'leth."

"I know, I'm paraphrasing what she said. She claimed that she could arrange for a passport for me from the Horde, and then told me to leave because my family will try to kill me for seeking her help."

Jhatra hummed again while experimenting with giving Litha a bun. "Well, that's possible when it comes to some of your relatives. They're so decadent, it's a thrill to watch when their ire is directed at other people."

"Do you think Ly'leth is right? Would my own family really try to kill me?"

"Oh yes, dear; never underestimate dynastic disputes." Jhatra switched from fixing Litha's hair to giving her a neck massage. "You mortals seem so attached to the idea of family until ideas like honor and succession are brought up. Then everything falls apart like a spiderweb pulled by a single thread."

Litha closed her eyes and tried to relax, but even her minion's surprising competence as a masseuse couldn't remove the weight from her shoulders. "I feel like I made a terrible mistake…I went to the Lunastre Estate expecting to receive the city's support. Instead, I may have signed a one-way ticket out of the only place I've ever known. But…" Her voice trailed off while the succubus was busy at work, and Litha waited a good long while before voicing her theory out loud. "Maybe this is a trick. Maybe Ly'leth just wants to further dismantle House Duskmere."

The way Jhatra tutted her tongue irritated the nightborne. "Not likely, dear. If she really wanted to act aggressively against your family, then why focus on you? You know that your family doesn't listen to you. It wouldn't make sense from her perspective."

Denial fought against the logic of Jhatra's words, and Litha couldn't easily accept the prospects. She waited while the succubus tried to work a nervous kink out of her shoulder, but even the free massage which would otherwise cost as fortune couldn't relieve her stress. "I don't know, I just don't know…how can I leave Suramar? And without planning or even packing? Ly'leth tried to persuade me not to even return home to collect my belongings. That's so…unfair." She could hear Jhatra humming deep in thought, trying to think of an answer. "I need a nap," Litha sighed, rising from the chair.

Nudging the nightborne toward full-blown pity whore mode, Jhatra leapt up as well and draped a towel from the dresser over Litha's head and shoulders. "Oh, you poor thing! Come now, you can sleep off all the negative feelings." Jhatra led her toward the bed and sated her need to feed on other people's drama as she tucked Litha into bed like an overgrown child, a sort of pampering that Litha was willing to accept when nobody else was around.

Laying down with the towel still draped around her, Litha gave in to the urge to feel sorry for herself and closed her eyes. "It's a bit early, but I need the rest," she yawned while Jhatra pulled the curtains closed. "Don't wake me until morning, or if there's a fire or something."

Within minutes, she dozed off, leaving her unsleeping demonic minion to spend the next nine hours reading trashy novels conjured from the Sayaad home world. The brief sleep was restful and filled with the sort of dreams called for when a trust-fund child was wallowing in self-pity…but it was still brief. Within only three or four hours, Litha was already being shaken awake, bleary-eyed and confused.

"What…it's still night," she yawned while rolling over, swatting Jhatra's hands away and fighting a tug-of-war match to pull the covers back over her. "Jhatra, whats'-"

"Shhh!" the succubus hissed, quickly cupping a hand over the nightborne's mouth.

Angry and ready to give her minion a stern talking too, Litha fought even harder to sit up and grab the blanket, though she was too uncoordinated after being woken up to do so. She gave up anyway when she actually stopped and listened to the sound of someone trying to pick the lock of her inn room door from the outside.

"We have her now," whispered the voice from the other side of the door.


	5. Chapter 5

When Litha heard the sound of a lockpick working the door, she finally did pipe down. Fighting off the drowsiness of her rude awakening, she turned to Jhatra, who was dragging her by the sleeves to the partition against the wall used for changing clothes.

The handle of the door shook. "You said you could pick locks," came the sound of her younger brother's voice. She immediately froze upon hearing the sound, forcing Jhatra to move behind her and push her behind the partition like a goblin bulldozer. "This isn't working," her brother whispered.

Next came the voice of one of her cousins, sending her pulse racing anxiously. "I can, just stop rushing me." What her cousin said next caused her heart to jump into her throat. "Don't worry, we're four floors up; she has nowhere to run."

"No where to run?!" she squeaked quietly. "Maybe they're just here to give me a surprise party-"

"Shush, you know why they're here!" Jhatra whispered back, preventing her from leaving the area behind the partition. "I can get you out of this, you have to trust me!" The succubus then held a finger over her lips and cast invisibility on herself, backing away and into the room.

Litha's blood pounded in her veins not due to fear of violence, but fear of an argument. Her heart still couldn't accept what both Ly'leth and Jhatra were claiming; she was convinced that her family were only there to berate her, which already had her stressed out. Soon enough, the lock clicked, and her brother and cousin entered the room. The door closed and locked behind them, sending Litha's pulse through the roof again as the two pairs of footsteps paced around the room.

"She's hiding," her younger brother said, addressing their cousin rather than Litha herself despite knowing she was there. The denigration of being spoken about in her own presence proved too much for her, and her sense of pride overrode her sense of logic.

"I'm not hiding; this is myroom!" Litha replied indignantly as she stepped out from behind the partition. She regretted her interjection as soon as she saw the burlap bag her younger brother was carrying. "What's going on?" she asked, fighting not to panic when her cousin, another relatively young Duskmere woman jostling for a leadership position, tried to step behind her.

The condemnation written into her younger brother's face felt like an insult in and of itself. "Our family has enough problems as it is," he said, refusing to even answer her question, and thus further wounding her pride. Her cousin tried to circle around behind her again, forcing her to backtrack toward the opposite wall.

"Why didn't you just knock? I could have opened the door!" Litha pleaded to no avail.

With all the arrogance of a highborne haberdasher, her younger brother tilted his head up specifically to look down his nose at her. "You have a lot of nerve asking for such courtesy after what you've done," he said in an acidic tone. "In a single afternoon, you took everything our family ever stood for and dragged it through the mud by begging for scraps at the table of those Lunastre louts." Caught like a child dipping into the cookie jar, Litha tried to defend herself, but she couldn't speak quickly enough to shut her younger sibling up. "Did you really think the people wouldn't know? It's only been a matter of hours, and word already reached us at our villa; our guests heard the whole story when the servants interrupted our crumpets and tea. Did you even consider anyone other than yourself for a second? Did you even think of how your treachery could damn us right out of our investments once our neighbors heard that a Duskmere sold out her own household to the usurpers mere months after the outlanders launched their little coup?"

"None of what you're saying is true!" Litha stuttered, sounding far less articulate than she'd intended.

Her cousin revealed a blackjack, no longer allowing her to pretend that their intentions weren't ignoble. "We'll be done with her soon," her cousin said about her, staring directly at her, but refusing to address her as a sentient being with a mind of her own. The indignity of being viewed as a sort of delinquent housepet was the only thing preventing Litha from degenerating into a spineless, blubbering mess.

"How dare you!" she said while jabbing a finger at her younger brother, swiftly igniting the self-righteous indignity of her two family members. "You have no right to barge into my private space!"

"How dare we?" her younger brother asked with wide, angry eyes. Her confused fury couldn't match his obviously practiced, pent-up fury. "You, a traitor who's consorted with the sunderers of our House, the sulliers of our good name - you speak about rights…no!" he said while waving his hands. "No, this conversation is over. Knock her out so we can be done with this," he said to their cousin.

A near mirror image of their family except quite a bit stronger than both siblings, Litha's cousin gripped the blackjack tightly. Years of unspoken backstabbing and rivalry glowered in the jealous woman's eyes. "I've been waiting for this moment," her cousin growled at her, causing Litha to shake as her fight-or-flight response went haywire.

"No, you can't do this!" Litha said while backing away, trembling upon the realization that, for the first time in a century, she was being physically threatened by another person.

Her cousin sneered at her. "Don't bother screaming - we paid the inn attendants to take a break for half an hour. Now you-"

Her cousin's sentence was interrupted by a sudden rush of air and a loud thud, the force of the sudden assault sending the fit nightborne aggressor keeling over and causing Litha's brother to jump away. Leather flapped in the air as the heretofore unseen observer sprang a sneak attack, and soon enough, limbs were flailing around the room. Unfamiliar with physicality outside of fencing lessons in a controlled environment, Litha needed a few seconds to realize that Jhatra had chosen that exact moment to attack.

Demonic wings flapped as wildly in the air as were elven limbs. "I got her!" the succubus yelled, clinging to the back of Litha's cousin and trying to put a sleeper hold onto the ill-intentioned elf. Unfortunately, Jhatra didn't know how to fight, not being one of the torturer or pain-bringer types of succubi, and Litha's cousin managed to grab Jhatra by the wing and pull the demon into a wrestling match.

"What in the world!" Litha's brother yelled, foppishly slapping at the succubus.

In spite of her racing pulse, Litha stood and watched as the others all floundered. Seeing her brother ineffectively try to break up the squabble on the floor brought back memories of their boring, micro-managed childhood in their hyper detail-oriented household. Images floated through her mind, among them those of the many times her brother had unsuccessfully tried to steal from her and the rest of their siblings. Throughout all the myriad memories returning to her every second, one common theme allowed her to regain her confidence: her younger brother was a wimp.

In a flash, she grabbed him by the fabric of his robe and pulled as hard as she could, swinging him toward the chair where Jhatra had fixed her hair for her earlier. Her haughty sibling flailed like a rag doll and tumbled hard over the piece of furniture, even sliding partially under the bed as he proved to be every bit the soft noble she knew he was. With him out of the way, she had to act fast and stop her cousin. Unlike her siblings, that other branch of the family wasn't so delicate.

"Mercy! Mercy!" Jhatra cried when Litha's cousin managed to twist the little demon's arm.

The distraction gave Litha enough time to grab the blackjack from the floor and commit the first legitimate act of violence against another person, outside of a controlled martial arts environment, in her life. With ease that almost scared her, she whacked her cousin in the back of the head with the blunt instrument as hard as she could. The way her cousin dropped immediately, the bigger woman's body falling limp with such little effort, filled Litha with a measure of confidence she hadn't expected. She'd protected herself and her minion without even trying.

Ever the loyal enabler and toxic empath, Jhatra struggled to her hooves and offered her concern to the unhurt warlock like a housecat expecting a treat. "Oh mistress, I was so afraid they'd hurt you!" the succubus said despite being in so much pain that she needed the dark elf's help to stand.

"I'm fine, we'll be fine," Litha replied nervously. "We just need to get out of here."

She ran to her brother, who was still fighting with the chair and the lack of space between the wall and the bed, and took the room key from him. "Curse you!" he hissed when she pushed him to the ground, once again testing the extremes of her pride when his words hurt her more than the earlier threat of violence.

"A hundred curses back on you!" Litha said, almost becoming emotional at the verbal abuse. Jhatra clung to her arm and patted her on the back. "Curses and misfortune for besmirching my honor!" She opened the door and locked it from the other side, leaving the key in the keyhole just to hold the two delinquents in there for longer.

Jhatra continued to cling to her, partially out of residual fear and partially due to the demon's nature as a flatterer rather than a flirt. "Don't listen to them, my lady! They're just jealous that the most important person in town hosted…oh crap."

Jhatra's voice dropped off suddenly, pulling Litha out of her pity process and into the present. Turning away from the door, she looked down the hall at the two figures waiting for them.

It was her sister and her older brother.

"Oh crap," Litha repeated.


	6. Chapter 6

The warlock and the demon both paused for a few seconds, wishing against all common sense that the presence of Litha's two other siblings was a mere coincidence. Unlike her younger brother, however, her older brother was less chatty, and less likely to issue threats.

He walked forward, moving with purpose without actually rushing. The stone cold glare on his face, coupled with the hidden object he held behind the folds of his sleeve, was enough to dissuade her from trying to talk him out of the confrontation.

"Run!" Litha ordered her minion as the two of them turned tail (literally in Jhatra's case) and raced down the other end of the hallway.

At the sound of his footsteps, the two of them shrieked. Even when simply walking fast, he caught up to them quickly and reached for one of Litha's ears. Unlike her younger brother, her older brother most certainly wasn't a wimp, and she whimpered out loud when thinking of what he was capable of.

She stumbled forward when Jhatra let go of her, causing her to slow down. Almost panicking, she continued running awkwardly but looked back to see the heart wrenching scene. The little succubus had let go of the warlock and thrown herself at the two siblings, stopping them in the middle of the hallway. Serving her purpose as a summoned minion, Jhatra didn't even try to escape when Litha's brother and sister ganged up on the diminutive demon, slapping them with all of her might as the pair bullied her against a wall.

"Go, mistress! Save yourself!" Jhatra yelled while Litha's older brother pulled a knife from his sleeve.

Even if Jhatra was a demon and would eventually be reborn in the Twisting Nether, Litha watched over her shoulder with a sense of loss as her brother stabbed the succubus in the stomach. Her sister clamped a hand over the demon's mouth so nobody would hear the muffled scream, and Litha ran around a corner in the inn, unable to watch.

No longer able to deny the fact that her family was trying to end her life, Litha fell into full panic mode, nearly tripped and falling twice as she barreled down the hallway toward the stairwell. Unfortunately for her, that end of the hallway had a staircase which only lead upwards, forcing her to the roof. She ran out into the sun and groaned, unused to the bright light now that Suramar's barrier was down, and closed the door behind her. Once again shaking in terror and thinking of a solution she could enact on her own, she rummaged through all of her pockets on the inside of her robes. Apparently, she'ddropped the blackjack in her escape, because all she could fish out of her pockets was lint, bank notes, her house keys, breath mints, three handkerchiefs, a random thumbtack, and a few undersized soul shards-

"Yes!" Litha cheered to herself, grasping one of the small, volatile fragments in her hand. Ignoring the shard's distorted image showing the tormented face of a housekeeper who'd tried to steal her earrings, she squeezed the shard and closed her eyes, whispering the incantation she'd developed to skip a summoning circle and directly call on a minion. "Tarzorth, I choose you!" she said just as the door from the stairwell burst open.

Involuntarily jumping, she dropped the shard as her sister and older brother walked toward her with enough swagger to fill the entire building with pretentious pomp. Her sister pointed at her with one long, garishly painted fingernail. "There's nowhere left to run, you sneaky, conniving…what's that?"

Her siblings were temporarily distracted by the soul shard crumbling into dust and spilling on the roof, not connecting the dots quickly enough. Their bravado and premature confidence having been fueled by Litha's fear, neither of them were prepared when a fleck of dust from the soul shard burned and puffed out, pulling a scorched body the size of a mana saber into their plane of existence. Walking on its knuckles and whipping its tail around, her second favorite minion, Tarzoth, immediately noticed the threat to its summoner and growled.

Her sister backed away, but her older brother couldn't overcome his moral outrage at the act of defiance. "Dismiss it now," he ordered while reaching a bit too closely to the vilefiend.

Not needing instruction, Tarzoth turned its eyes and followed the movements of Litha's older brother. When his hand moved near its snout, it reacted with all the loyal protectiveness of a trained orangutan. "Rar!" it growled while swiping at her older brother with its talons, slashing open his long, flowing sleeves and granting him pause.

With bloodied hands, he reached for the knife he'd used to kill Jhatra, enflaming Litha's sense of possessiveness over her minions. "You opposed Ruvan's efforts, yet you bend the Legion's agents to your will regardless. You disgust me!" he hissed, causing Litha to gasp in offense. Even if his words weren't surprising, her sense of dignity felt raw and sore; she was only hurt by the sound of her character being maligned, not because she actually felt anything for her siblings anymore.

The sign of the knife sent Tarzoth over the edge, however, and the family drama was cut as swiftly as was her older brother's neck. In a flash, the vilefiend swiped at the aggressive man again, slashing open his flesh. Although he grasped his throat and covered most of the gore, the sight was more than Litha had ever seen at such a close proximity, and she shrieked as loudly as her sister did. Falling to the ground bleeding, her brother lost fatally due to his inability to respond, too shocked to think of any spells to cast; being a bully all his life meant knowing only how to dispense punishment, not how to react to it.

A furious fire burned in her sister's eyes, overtaking the fear. "Murderer!" she growled while pulling out a knife of her own and stabbing Tarzoth in the arm. The fiend yelped and recoiled for a brief moment before opening its jaws and biting the vengeful woman's hand all the way up past the wrist. A relatively small amount of blood splattered, most of it being contained in Tarzoth's mouth, and Litha's sister failed to respond right away. Whether due to system shock or some failure of her pain sensors, the insidious sibling merely stared at the demon's toothy maw blankly, her reaction delayed to an almost comical degree. Within two seconds, though, her nerve endings must have transmitted the signals to her brain that a demon tried to bite off her hand. "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" she screamed loudly enough such that Litha worried about witnesses.

Without giving it a further thought, Litha grabbed her sister by the ponytail and yanked, practically throwing the woman back down the stairwell. Stupidly, Tarzoth wouldn't let go, also falling down the stairs. The two bodies tumbled and hit each step hard, eventually rolling out of Litha's sight. "Sorry Tarzoth, the ends justify the means!" Litha yelled down the stairs before closing the door to save herself. Stepping over her brother's body, she looked to the next building - a café with a sizable balcony which was closed for renovations - and took a deep breath. "I can't believe I'm about to do this!" she said, wavering while she measured the distance between the inn's roof and the café's balcony.

With his dying breath, her older brother rolled over, releasing his hand from the gruesome wound for one last curse. "I hope you fall," he gurgled before letting out a death groan.

Denied a proper retort due to his subsequent death, Litha felt a sharp pain in her stomach when she inhaled. In the ultimate victory for him, he died after having the last word. For the very first time in many months, the two-hundred year old elf felt tears well up in her eyes.

"Everything bad in my life was because of you all!" Litha cried angrily, pointing at her older brother's corpse. Deep lines of resentful rage, long left unspoken, marked her face. Letting go and accepting his death - whether at her hands or not - was surprisingly easy. "I hate you, I hate all of you!" she cried again, wiping tears away with her handkerchief as she tried to focus on the insane act of parkour she was about to attempt without any qualifications.

For too many reasons, her nerves were frazzled and her heart beat irregularly. After taking a deep breath, she took a few steps back, ran to the edge of the roof, and jumped for the balcony…covering only half the needed distance.


	7. Chapter 7

Litha screamed as she fell short of the balcony, no longer caring about witnesses when she felt like she was going to die. The balcony quickly passed out of her vision, leaving only the alabaster wall of the building passing before her until she broke her fall against a fire escape with her forearms, shins, and ribs.

Screaming a second time, Litha belted out a face-melting cry until her voice box gave out on her, reducing the noise to a hiss like air escaping from a balloon. With the last of her energy, she pulled herself onto the fire escape and stared up at the sky. She made a very unpleasant crying face and sobbed, both from the pain to her body and to her dignity. There apparently hadn't been any witnesses because, when she regained her voice, she spent a good few minutes letting out deep, choking sobs which nobody responded to. Eventually, the realization that her cousin was still alive in the next building and probably ready for revenge forced her to chin up and breathe deeply until she stopped crying out loud. Tears still streaming down her face and ruining her mascara, she slid down the stairs of the fire escape on her butt until she reached the bottom and hopped off.

"Why me," she asked the universe as she found herself in an alley between the two buildings. Without Jhatra there to validate her misery, Litha limped toward the sidewalk while wiping away more tears.

That part of the street was empty at that time of night, and she was able to walk anonymously as she calmed down and reoriented herself. Now fully accepting her outcast status, she walked, numb, to the only place of refuge she knew of: the Horde embassy at the other end of the street.

Nestled in between two goblin shops, the embassy was rented out of an older nightborne building with traditional architecture; only the black and red flag signified its status as a Horde outpost. Although the lights were all off, the door was unlocked and there was movement beyond the glass door. Litha stopped on the sidewalk in front and fixed her hair using the window like a mirror, ignoring the local couple who strolled by and probably judged her disheveled appearance. While adjusting her robes, she pulled her skirt up just enough to notice the black bruises on her shins, a reminder of how desperate she was for safety. Resigned to fleeing rather than fighting any more, she entered the embassy without knocking.

In the reception room lit by a single candle, a few members of the motley nation known as the Horde mingled on the night shift, wearing their faction tabards but no name cards or visual identification. A furry black-and-white bear thing with a long mustache looked at her snidely, apparently ending a conversation upon her entrance. Next to him was a tall, lanky troll woman and a sharply dressed goblin woman standing on the counter.

"We're closed," said the bear thing with a dismissive tone that already upset her.

Putting on her best haughty noble face in the presence of foreigners, Litha straightened up and cleared her throat dramatically. "I am Lithassia Duskmere, and my arrival was already reported to you on behalf of Lady Ly'leth Lunastre," she said, enunciating every word like she was talking to an unruly janitor. The weird bear-thing shook his head, only making her feel more determined. "I believe that my passport is waiting for me."

Turning to face her, the navy blue trollop formed a veritable wall between Litha and what she felt was her right. "Hun, it be midnight. You can come back in the morning."

Indignant at being spoken to in such a way by an outsider, in her own city, Litha rose to the challenge and forgot her previous sorrow and pain. "Excuse me, I pay taxes!" Litha replied, causing the she-troll to curl a thick lip up in amusement but the he-bear-thing to sneer. "Stand and deliver, or I'll have to speak to your manager!"

"Looks like we got a Karen," the troll chortled, rolling her eyes.

"I'll call her a lot more than that," the bear man said, enflaming Litha by speaking about her rather than to her.

However, the little goblin hopped off the counter, dusting off her coat with a knuckle and looking rather pleased with herself. "I'll handle this," she said to the bearman. "Miss, we only offer a limited range of services after hours, per our official policy. What exactly do you need?"

Rising to the challenge of legalese, Litha turned her attention to the goblin, intentionally giving her back to the bear thing. "First of all, I'd like to see this policy in writing, please," Litha said, gaining the goblin's full attention until the door opened behind them.

Turning to be sure she was still safe, Litha felt her heart flutter when her loyal vilefiend entered, unharmed. "No, absolutely not!" the weird bear thing said, stepping forward toward Tarzoth. "No demons allowed!"

Tarzoth walked to Litha's side and sat down, snorting at the bearman and leaning it's snout against Litha's leg. "This is my pet fiend, what's the problem?" she asked indignantly. To her chagrin, though, Tarzoth started coughing like a cat choking on a hair ball.

"That's the problem!" the bearman said.

The goblin tutted her tongue. "He's got a point, ma'am. We don't want that thing spitting acid on the floor."

Choking and coughing, Tarzoth temporarily embarrassed Litha when it vomited up a sticky, acid-melted object. "Blech!" it coughed as the smelly object fell to the floor.

"Tarzoth, no! Bad!" she whispered, causing the demon to bow its snout in shame. This wasn't going as well as Litha had planned.

When the goblin bent down to get a better look at the detritus, Litha's embarrassment factor grew exponentially, and she mentally scrambled to think of a new approach to get what she wanted without belittling herself in front of outlanders. Fortune favored her that night, however, because the goblin did the unthinkable and picked up the disgusting object in a handkerchief of her own.

"Ma'am, is this your wedding ring stuck to…this…stuff?" the goblin asked while looking over the melted flesh and gleaming diamond.

Two centuries of constantly jostling for dominance in an estate full of fakers and shakers had prepared Litha for formulating plots with minimal time, and she recovered from her sense of embarrassment rapidly enough to formulate an acceptable lie. "Mine? Why, no, I'm fairly certain that it's yours," the nightborne said in a low volume, readily offering up her sister's wedding ring and thanking her lucky stars that Tarzoth had bitten off the right appendage. "How unfortunate that it fell into my minion's mess…surely we can ignore small details like mopping floors and nighttime work schedules while you clean off your twenty-four carat gold designer ring with pure, professionally cut highborne diamond embedded, yes?"

Just as sharp, the goblin only needed a few seconds before her eyebrows shot up. "Well, what do you know? I thought I'd lost it," the little green lady said, readily accepting the bribe. "Let me just take this into the back room and wash it off. Hey, funny coincidence: your passport is already waiting for you in the back room!"

As the goblin excused herself and walked toward a door in the back, the fuzzy bear-thing finally understood what was going on. "Giada, no! Not again!" the said while following her through the door leading to the back room of the embassy. An argument about ethics in civil service ensued, though Litha didn't even pay attention. After having suffered so much in so little time at the hands of her family, this victory uplifted her spirits sky high.

Feeling rather proud of herself, Litha didn't notice the trollop eying her up and down. Her cloud-nine altitude was brought closer down to Azeroth by the monster lady's verbal intrusion.

"You be running from something," the troll woman said while leaning her elbows on the counter.

Peering sideways at the nosy foreigner, Litha withheld the full brunt of her indignance but did pass the lazy looking embassy staff member a dismissive glance. "Excuse you, but I don't believe I offered to tell you about my personal problems."

Not to be outdone, the troll lady flashed an infuriating smirk. "I don't believe I asked to hear about them," she said in her weird accent. "I'm just making an observation."

"Well, your observation wasn't requested," Litha said while turning her nose up, though her feigned regal aura was dispelled by the trollop's laugh.

"You be in my house now, Karen. That Lady Lunastre arranged for your passport, fine, but you not in a position to be making any more requests."

Increasingly annoyed by the argument in the next room as well as the criticism from a foreign stranger, Litha actually pulled one of her trump cards and folded her arms over her chest. "I'll choose to be the bigger woman and walk away," she huffed while stepping to the other side of her fiendish minion. Her movement only garnered more laughter.

"Two steps don't count as far away to most people." Litha huffed out loud in response, causing the troll lady to hum deep in her throat. "Yeah, you in deep shit."

"I beg your pardon!" Litha blurted out, not needing to feign her moral outrage. To her confusion, Tarzoth wasn't moving aggressively against the troll lady, behaving as if there wasn't any danger.

"You come in here demanding a passport at midnight, bribe the boss with a ring you obviously stole-"

"No! I will not allow you to slander my good name like this!" Litha gasped while covering as much of her long ears with her hands as she could.

"-dragging a demon with you, wearing a dress with blood stains on it, and pretending to be confident like you own the place." The troll lady smiled warmly, her expression completely lacking the dishonest, underhanded undertones which Litha would have expected from her family members. "You be scared of something, someone, but you be too proud to just come out and ask for help."

Feeling as exposed as she was in front of Ly'leth Lunastre, Litha flipped between covering her ears, giving her back to the troll, or folding her arms over her chest. Her eye caught her mirror image in the front door's window, revealing how manic she appeared, and she let her arms drop stiffly at her side to avoid looking nervous.

"You don't know anything," the dark elf huffed, not knowing how else she could ward off the biting commentary.

Once again, not realizing how lucky she was that night, Litha continued to face away from the troll. The latter wasn't deterred by the pretentious behavior of the former, however. "I know that I could just drop you right now and watch you get mugged or kidnapped or whatever you be so scared of as soon as you take your passport and walk out that door," the troll said, still more friendly than mocking. "But I also know that it would be even more entertaining to watch you humble yourself by accepting charity."

"Charity!" Litha exclaimed, involuntarily looking back to the troll lady. "I'm an heiress of House Duskmere, I don't need anybody's charity!"

Trying to argue with the troll was like talking to a wall because the red headed monster lady simply wouldn't be offended by anything. That point was further driven home when the door behind the counter leading to the back room opened, revealing only the goblin named Giada and no one else. The little green person climbed up on the countertop to speak face-to-face with the two larger persons almost having an argument but not quite.

"Here's your passport, Miss Duskmere!" Giada said while handing the red and black booklet to Litha. "Sorry about the previous mixup."

A sense of partial victory washed over the nightborne; on at least one front, she'd gotten what she'd wanted. "I accept your apology," she replied, not noticing the less than pleased reaction from the goblin who'd apparently been expecting thanks. While Litha flipped through the pages of the document, the troll intruded again.

"Hey Gia, Karen Duskmere here needs a place to stay," the troll said, angering the nightborne by speaking on her behalf.

"Hey!"

"We have an empty room upstairs, right?" the troll continued, ignoring Litha's verbally registered objection.

Having lost interest already, Giada returned to the back room. "Huh? Yeah, I guess a free ring…um, I mean, getting my ring back is worth a night here in the staff quarters. Just dismiss your demon, You and Fon can handle security here."

"What! Me?" Litha asked, her long eyebrows shooting up faster than the troll could continue laughing at her.

"You is the name of the guy with the mustache," the troll chuckled at the dark elf's expense. "Fon is me." Like Litha's older brother, the troll wouldn't grant her the right of reply, merely fishing a key out of the drawers behind the counter and tossing it to her. "Third floor, room 3C. There toilets be common, so you probably gonna have to get used to that."

The troll named Fon started to leave toward a third door to the side of the room. "Where are you going?" Litha asked, no longer sure of what to do with herself now that she had what she'd come for and very little else in the world.

"I be in room 3D," Fon replied without even turning around. "Try not to snore. A bit of deference be expected from a charity case."

"I-do-not-need-charity!" Litha hissed, though Fon had already gone upstairs.


End file.
